By Michael Deeter
“There is no boat, we swim amigos,” Mario announced in a deep Mexican accent as he pointed out to some vague spot on the horizon.
“He’s kidding, right?” Jon whispered my way, the confused look on his face suggesting the task at hand was clearly outside of his wheelhouse.
“It’s doable, man,” I told him. With years of long-distance swimming under my belt I was confident in my abilities—in Jon’s…not so much.
Mario checked our status, “We good amigos?”
“My buddy here is concerned with the swim, is there another option?” I asked offhandedly.
“There is a kayak, but she’s no much seaworthy,” Mario replied after a serious discussion with his homeboy, Efren.
“Does it float?” Jon concernedly chimed in.
“Eh, little bit,” came the reply.
While buying a bag of “mota”off Mario the day before, we struck up a conversation about fishing the waters in the area, looking to tap into some local knowledge. He mentioned it was lobster season and the reefs off the coast of our rental house were prime hunting grounds. He offered to take us out the next day to a spot he called El Diente del Diablo, “The Devil’s Tooth,” about a mile off the coast. I asked about licenses. Mario laughed.
“The water belong to us. The government has no say how I feed my family,” he replied after collecting himself. I immediately liked the guy.
We reported as ordered geared up and ready, or so we thought. Expecting Mario to roll up in a fully powered panga, we were surprised when he and his buddy walked up under their own power, assorted provisions in hand. We didn’t anticipate a mile or so swim to the outer reef, but for Jon, there’s no backing out of a challenge, regardless of the possible consequence, so Plan F was initiated.
He mounted the questionable craft and shot a straight line through the surf, punching into the top of a wave and slamming down on the other side. He dug in, paddling hard to get past the oncoming set waves. Once in calmer waters and beyond the breakers, Jon leisurely paddled while I swam along with the two guys who had just switched to glide. Their economy of effort was impressive, making me work to keep up.
My new compadres weren’t athletic looking men by any stretch, but they turned out to be beasts in the water. After years of cutting their teeth on these reefs in the Yucatán, spearing whatever they could for food or market, they’d perfected their trade. Once in position, Mario and Effran got after it, taking turns making 40-plus foot dives to the ocean floor below. Each time they surfaced they brought more fresh seafood to put on the table.
Before long the anchored kayak began riding dangerously low on the water while we were off working the reef, calling into question the likelihood of getting it and Jon back to shore. Luckily, we had more than enough lobster, fish, and crab to feed our crew back at the house by the time we noticed the precarious situation. Turned out Mario hadn’t been kidding, and it had taken on water between a cracked seam in the hull. Jon struggled to get the saturated boat underway but called on his reserves and bit through the agony. The kayak barely managed to stay afloat to the end of the return leg, where a fridge full of cold cervezas awaited.
Later that night Mario and his wife came by to help cook up the feast and join in the drinking and fireside stories. After a delicious meal and well into a few beverages Mario’s tongue loosened up and the truth came out. In broken English he regaled us with the story of the kayak, mentioning more than once he didn’t think the shot-out vessel would make the trip back to shore. At the end of the story his jovial demeanor flattened as his eyes locked in on Jon. It was in that moment I knew if it came down to dragging my buddy or the bag filled with lobsters out of the water that day there would have been one less gringo at the table and a bit more lobster to go around.
So the lesson to be learned here: You can have a great time poaching lobsters in a part of the sea named after the Devil in a leaky boat belonging to a Mexican drug dealer you just met on the street.
